Graeme
by Crowded Angels
Summary: After the death of someone from Stella's past, she and Mac take a trip down memory lane that reveals more than he ever knew, and brings her work and personal life perilously close.
1. Chapter 1

I'd written the timeline and a few scenes to this back in _2009_ - I know, way to procrastinate! It's now all written and lasts about four chapters with an epilogue. Four _long _chapters, sorry about that. Chaptering it proved more difficult than I was anticipating….

Hope you enjoy! Thanks for reading x

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><p>There was a definite chill to the air, enough for the windows in the Avalanche to be firmly shut and a thin, cloudy layer of condensation to coat the glass.<p>

As Mac pulled to a stop outside 1 Police Plaza, he tweaked with the heating dials some more, noticing from a quick glance across the street that Stella was on her way down the steps towards him. Her eyes were firmly routed to her cell phone, he noted with a smirk, no doubt checking through the latest lab results Adam had just text them both.

He moved his hand to the radio dials, turning the volume up as the news actually praised the FBI on a drug sting of some description. He half-listened as he read through the lab results again, realising after a while that Stella hadn't made it to the car and glancing over to where he'd last seen her. She was now stood on the sidewalk, deep in conversation with a young woman. Mid-thirties, he instantly assessed. She was heavily pregnant with a deep purple coat straining over her large bump.

The woman's hands were firmly grasped within Stella's and whatever their topic of conversation was, it seemed deeply upsetting for the both of them.

Tears were tripping the younger woman's face, but Stella rarely let her emotions show in public, Mac only able to tell by the way her mouth was in a tight pout with her teeth chewing on the inside of her lips.

He watched as Stella reached into her pocket and pulled out a business card, scribbling something on the back before handing it over and hugging her tightly. Stella watched the other woman walk away for a beat before wiping at her cheek and collecting herself, crossing the road to Mac.

He watched her circle the front of the SUV and climb into the passenger seat. She mumbled an apology as her elbow rested on the door, her fingers covering her mouth while her eyes focussed - unseeing- out the window.

"Everything okay?

She sighed, her thumb grazing across her cheek, dislodging a falling tear. "Yeah. Well… I just found out an old friend died."

He laid a hand on her knee, "I'm sorry. Were you close?"

"A long time ago."

He swallowed. It wasn't often he saw Stella like this - obvious emotion about a non-work event. She was most definitely the heart of the team, but usually she was showing anger at perps, sympathy at victims, empathy at survivors. He rarely saw her so emotionally open and tearful, and very seldom about a personal friend.

"You want me to drive you home?" he asked, his husky voice silken and hushed.

"No, no, I'm fine. I'll be fine. Thank you," she smiled softly, her fingers resting on his.

He gave her an unconvinced look.

"I'll be fine," she repeated, a tear escaping and negating her sentiment.

With a look, he told her he didn't believe her but would acquiesce to her wishes.

He started the engine, returning his hand to the wheel and turned into the traffic.

Stella's gaze returned to the window, her mind obviously years into her past.

Xx

The scene had been a straight-forward bag-and-tag in an apartment, but Stella was going through the motions. Not that she was sloppy or unprofessional in her work, far from it, but her mind was not on the job.

He occasionally saw her swipe at her cheek with the sleeve of her coat and he was shocked to return from the adjoining room to have seen her stilled over an evidence number cone, camera hovering as she stared. She was pale, her skin suddenly looking sallow and chalky, not it's usual healthy olive glow.

He made a noise - 'accidentally' dropping his orange ALS goggles - to bring her out of her reverie without letting her know he was watching her. She suddenly sprang to life, snapping a few photographs before dropping the evidence into a baggie.

"All done?" he asked, closing up his aluminium kit box.

"All done," she stood up, clipping the camera back into it's bag. "Got some partials from the TV remote and a couple of smudges by the window. Not much else probative, though."

She still had her back to him, trying to subtly wipe at her face. He closed the front door, blocking the uniform cop standing guard at the door, and crossed the room to her as her shoulders suddenly sagged and started shaking.

"Stella," he swiped a hand over her back. She spun on her heel and crushed herself into his body as a sob racked through her.

He held her tightly as his fingers splayed across her back, gently soothing her as her face hid into his neck.

"Stella, who was it? Who was it who died?"

Her face moved on his shoulder, her hair tickling his cheek. "My husband."

"_What_?"

"He was my husband," she managed to say before her sobs started again.


	2. Chapter 2

Thank you to everyone reading/reviewing this little labour of love. xxxx

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><p>"I don't understand," Mac told her, passing a tumbler of whisky. He sat down next to her on her couch as she tucked her legs further beneath her. "How did I not know you were married?"<p>

She sipped at the amber liquid, placing the glass on her lap and watching the ripples on the surface intently. Eventually, he raked a hand through her hair and rested her head on her hand, elbow on the back of the couch. "It was a long time ago."

Even in the low light, provided only by the lamp behind her on the table and the bulb from the hallway, he could see the faintest of smiles quirk at her lips. "How long?"

"Academy," she sipped her whisky.

Mac shook his head slightly, "I had no idea."

"Never told anyone." Tears began to shine at her eyes again.

"Tell _me._"

Her eyes found his, a tear falling down her cheek. She tightened her lips and set her jaw, almost steeling her nerves as she swiped at the wet path down her skin. As much as she trusted Mac implicitly, she hadn't spoken about that time of her life aloud for a very long time. She swallowed, placing the tumbler on the table as she left the couch.

Mac watched as she crossed to the bookcase, pulling out a book from the bottom shelf. Glancing a hand over the cover, a swatch of dust glittering and swirling away, she handed it to Mac as she took a seat next to him.

He flipped open the cover as she grabbed her drink and settled back, pulling her legs back beneath her.

It had been a long time since she looked at her wedding album. A _long_ time. And Mac could see the trepidation in her eyes, the hitch in her throat.

"I don't even know his name, " Mac said.

She smiled then, "Graeme. Graeme Kinsella."

x

_April 3rd__, 1990 - Chelsea University._

_She was trying desperately to suppress her smile changing to a full-out grin. Her chest was already bubbling with excitement and she actually wanted to skip. What twentyyear old wanted to skip? Sober?_

_She'd done a cursory lap of the great hall, the job stalls of the career fayre all shiny and beckoning, promising untold skills and experiences and salaries. Stella had smiled sweetly, listened intently and signed the registers for further information. _

_But, really, there was only one stall she'd been interested in, had always been interested in. _

"_-sorry!" a man's voice announced, crashing into her shoulder. _

"_Damnit," she muttered, her collection of free pens crashing to the floor and scattering in all directions. She crouched down, surprised when he did the same. _

"_Sorry, lost my footing," he smiled, sheepishly. He had lovely big brown eyes, olive skin and a strong jaw. His dark hair in that typical I'm-at-college-Mom-can't-make-me-cut-my-hair-anymore shaggy length. _

"_No problem," she blushed._

"_You really sign up for all these?" he asked as they straightened up, passing her a handful of multicoloured pens. _

"_Kinda," she smiled, bunching them between her fist. "I just wanted the free pens really, didn't give my real name for most of them."_

_He laughed, flashing her straight white teeth in a smile that made her blush a little bit more and gave her the confidence to flirt. "I went for a 'J' theme today. For these," she plucked out a pen, "I believe I was 'J Roberts'," another pen, "'J Kennedy", "J Foster" and..., 'J Jackson' I think?."_

_He was laughing again, his eyes sparkling golden brown, "That's genius. Which did you use your real name for?"_

"_Only one," she pulled out the NYPD pen. _

_He eyes grew wider before he reached into his polo shirt top pocket and pulled out the exact same pen. "Maybe I'll see you at the Academy."_

"_Maybe you will."_

"_See you around, JJ." He turned on his heel and disappeared into the maze of stalls. _

_She definitely wanted to skip now._

_x_

A smirk tugged at his lips, "I'm sorry, you were Stella Kinsella?"

She mirrored his smirk, "Still am, technically."

"You're still married?"

"More 'not divorced' than 'still married'." Her face turned dark once more, "Guess I'm widowed now."

He looked at her, sadness for her knitting his brow.

"That's Grae," she said, tapping a finger at the first picture in the album.

Grae was handsome, no doubting that. Strong features, olive skin, proud posture.

He smiled. He'd known Stella a long time, but never when she was quite so young. And, now that he looked at her picture, he realised he had never seen photographs of her at that age either.

She hadn't changed much. Ignoring the garish fashion of the time - early nineties - she was just a little bit softer around the edges, hair a little more untamed and features quite a bit happier, he noted sadly.

"You look so young."

"As opposed to now?" she laughed.

"No, no, I just mean to be getting married. You look so young to be getting married."

"I was twenty two," she said, a finger tracing over the picture. "And about seven weeks pregnant."

x

_May 2__nd__,1991 - Brooklyn, New York._

"_Stella?" Grae's voice rang through their small apartment. "Stel?"_

_She slowly opened the bathroom door, the hinges creaking as she stepped into the corridor, her face pale and drawn. _

"_There you are," he smiled, coming out of the bedroom. "Oo, you not feeling any better? I heard you up last night. You've really gotta steer clear of those hotdogs on 9__th __,I've told you before..."_

"_More like I gotta steer clear of you…"_

"_What?"_

_She brought her hand up, the thick white stick held between her fingers. "I'm pregnant."_

_Grae froze. He stared intently at the test stick, as if trying to convince himself that it wasn't a trick of his mind, of fallout to too many at Sullivan's last night. "Well, shit."_

"_What are we gonna do?" she asked, her voice thin and raw, a tear tripping from her eye._

_He stepped forward, wrapping her in his arms. "I don't know, baby. I don't know."_

_x_

His eyes shot up to hers.

She smiled, sadness negating the sentiment. "Surprise."

"You never told me you'd been pregnant."

"It's not really something that comes up in conversation often. 'How was your day?' 'Good thanks. So much better than that time I miscarried a baby.'" She took a large gulp at her whisky.

He nodded, almost unseen and looked back at the album, turning a page and finding a photograph of Stella and Graeme's hands entwined over her stomach. He saw Stella take another drink and swipe at her cheeks, a frustrated grunt leaving her. She'd cried enough about that day.

"How long after?"

"Two weeks. Practically to the day." She gave a humourless chuckle. "Talk about honeymoon period."

He looked back at the album turning the page to a group photo. "Is that Professor P?"

She nodded. "He gave me away." At that, she walked over to the kitchen and brought the bottle of whisky back with her, pouring herself a generous measure. Mac declined a refill.

"He gave you away and you still call him Professor?"

"He always told me not to, but it never felt right. I guess it was my term of endearment to him."

"He looked very proud."

Her eyes stared at that photograph. She was sitting next to Grae, one hand entwined in his, the other covering the Professor's on her shoulder. She still hadn't processed her feelings towards him properly. He'd lied to her; he knew her mother; he'd left her in that Orphanage, being passed around to unsuitable foster placement after placement and he never once told her he was the closest thing to father she could ever wish for. All she knew was that she missed him and wished she could ask him the millions of questions he'd left unanswered.

"That's Grae's family," she smiled, leaving the Professor topic to die. "Mom and Dad, Corinne and James. That's his little sister, Josie. That's who I was speaking with today." She laughed, "I'm surprised Graeme and Jay," she pointed to a young man in the picture, "let her go near any boys."

"Protective brothers?"

"Oh yeah," she laughed. "They were murder with each other. Kept teasing and playing silly pranks."

"Sounds like a nice family. That must have been nice for you."

"Instant family, exactly what I'd been looking for my whole life."

"Why did you separate?"

"It was nearing the end of the Academy when all the job offers were coming in. I got an offer for Brooklyn Narcs," she gestured to him, reminding him that she had taken that job, "and Grae got headhunted by the Feds. New York and Virginia," she balanced her hands, "worlds apart. He was going to give it up, stay in NYC and get a job here but… he wanted that FBI job. Not that he'd say that. We were fighting about it towards the end, and then…the miscarriage and it just seemed right. We split after graduation and he moved to Virginia."

x

_June 11__th__, 1991 - Brooklyn New York._

"_What's this?" Stella asked, leaning forward and taking the mail from the table. She propped her feet back up as her finger ran over the federal seal in the corner of the envelope. The letter was half stuffed back in, the addressee of 'Mr. G. Kinsella' visible. "Hmm?" she prompted, but his attention was on the game on the TV._

_She pulled the letter out and gave a quick read. She swallowed down a dry throat. "Grae…"_

"_What?"_

"_This." She tilted the paper, her eyes still focussed on its words._

_He shot a glance over, quickly returning to the game. "Oh, it's not important." _

"_Not important? It's a Federal job offer!"_

_He shrugged. _

"_Grae!" The passion in her voice drew him away from the TV as he leant back against the couch cushions. _

"_Yeah…"_

"_Grae, this is an incredible opportunity…"_

"_Yes, it is. But I'm more interested in _this _opportunity," he smiled, sliding a hand across her stomach, his wedding ring glinting. _

_She smiled, entwining their fingers over their unborn baby. She gave a sigh, however. _

"_Listen, they would want me to move to Virginia. You've got a job here, I've already been offered a job here and we definitely want the kid to have a New York accent, okay? Ignore it." He kissed her and returned his attention to the TV. "I have."_

_She watched him as his gaze lowered, his brow furrowing. He was torn. Part of him wanted that job._

_x_

She was asleep now, curled up in her bed, back facing Mac. He was still sat on the couch, a single lamp illuminating the laptop screen as he scanned in the evidence from earlier that day.

He'd had a couple of hits on the partial prints Stella had lifted, but nothing was looking too promising.

He sat back, his head nestling into the cushions as she raked a hand over his hair and down his face. It was late, well, early really. He glanced over his shoulder, checking Stella was still sleeping. The steady rise and fall of her body telling him she was fine, so he settled back and closed his eyes, hoping he too might be granted a few hours of shut-eye.

As soon as the eyelids met, however, images of Claire appeared. He wasn't surprised, considering the subject matter of the evening. He remembered her in her wedding dress, their families together, her father walking her down the aisle with a puffed chest and tears in his eyes.

Then, the days, weeks, months after Claire had died, when Stella had been there for him. Representing him and the lab at funeral after funeral of fallen comrades, friends and colleagues. Then, at Claire's. Hand on his shoulder as he sat down from carrying her coffin, when he didn't think his legs would support him to stand again. He vaguely remembers her speaking at the funeral too, but specifics of that day, of that time, were somewhat fuzzy.

And through all that, their fifteen years together, he never knew she had been married. Never knew she had been pregnant. A part of him wanted to be angry that she hadn't confided in him, but mostly he was sad for her. Through everything she'd been through in their friendship - Frankie, fire, HIV scare - he'd never seen her so upset. She'd cried when Aiden and Angell died, but he tended to have only been privy to the aftermath with the red eyes and rubbed raw cheeks. She'd had it all tucked in, hidden away from even those closest to her. What else was she hiding?

He fell asleep not long after, images of Claire and Stella in billowing white dresses the last things he thought of.

x

_June 8__th__, 1991 - Rochester, New York._

_Graeme shook his arms, rolled his ankles and snapped his neck from side to side, like an athlete visualising the finish line. _

"_You alright, man?" Jay asked, slapping a hand to his younger brother's shoulder. _

"_Yeah. Yeah." _

"_Liar."_

"_Shut up."_

_Jay laughed. "Do you love her?"_

"'_Course I do!" Grae flashed him a look, tugging on his suit sleeves. _

"_Well then, quit your moaning!"_

"_Jay, quit picking on your kid brother."_

"_Thank you, Dad," Grae said, as James joined his sons at the far end of the garden. The childhood home had been transformed in a sea of white linen covered chairs, a silken white aisle down the middle, leading to an arch of white, yellow and orange flowers, most picked from the same garden. _

"_Yeah, it's not his fault he's a wimp-ass."_

_Grae narrowed his eyes, a bemused smirk on his lips at his father's grin and brother's laugh. He lunged to thump Jay in the stomach, an act of sibling violence his brother was expecting as he slid out of the way, only for the patriarch to step in and grab Grae around the shoulders, keeping him in a headlock. Jay was doubled over laughing, the sight not unusual for the Kinsella house growing up. _

"_Jimmy! Jay!" Corinne scolded as she quick-walked over the grass, heels sinking into the ground. "Time and a place, this is neither. Unhand the baby."_

_James let go as Grae moaned, "Mom, I haven't been your baby since Josie was born."_

"_You'll always be my baby," she pulled at her middle child's tie. _

"_Your baby's having a baby!"_

"_I know!" she practically squeaked, her voice suddenly full of emotion. _

_Grae rolled his eyes and swatted her hands away. "Where is she?"_

"_Relax, son," his Dad smiled warmly, a proud glint shining in his eyes. _

_Graeme spun on his heel as he heard the double patio doors whoosh open. Josie stepped out from behind the white curtain, snatching them closed behind her. She nodded to her mom who ushered the twenty-or-so family and friends to the seats. _

_Professor Papakoti trotted over the lawn and slipped behind the curtain, an affectionate pat to Josie's shoulder as she allowed him entry through the smallest gap of the curtain, determined to let her soon-to-be sister-in-law's dress be a surprise. _

_The Professor's mouth was agape as he took in the sight of Stella, a quiet Greek phrase slipping from his lips. Stella smiled, holding the bouquet out to the side so he could survey the entire outfit. _

"_Is he still there?" Stella asked, her voice quiet and fearful. _

"_Of course,"_

_She took a deep breath, straightened the straps on her shoulder, fingered at the flowers in her hand and said, "Okay then. Let's rock and roll."_

_The Professor poked through the curtain, nudging Josie on her path down the carpeted aisle. _

"_When did that happen?" Jay whispered to Graeme, watching as their fourteen year old kid sister walked towards them, a mouth full of glistening braces, but a developing body wrapped in a purple summer dress and shawl. She suddenly didn't seem a kid anymore._

"_Josephine," Graeme nodded, his face straight. _

"_Graeme," she mirrored, moving past him and standing next to Jay, who leant across and took one side of her shawl, flicking it across her chest in a sign of uneasiness at his baby sister growing up. She, of course, snatched it back and shoved an elbow into his side. _

_They both received a scowl from their mother but Stella was laughing at the sight as she stepped from the house. _

_Grae felt like he'd stepped into a vacuum. All the air left his body as he set sight on his bride. Her unruly curls were half swept up, tendrils swirling about her face and shoulders. The white summer dress was form fitting but modest, layers of frills around the neckline and hem with a belt of cut-out patterns around the middle, linking into a bow at her back. _

_The two white lilies, with accentuating smaller flowers, pointed towards her groom, covering her blossoming pregnant belly. _

_She smiled at Grae as the Professor linked her arm, blushing at the intensity of the look her betrothed was sending her, causing her stomach to tighten and heart jump. From a hidden CD player, 'Canon in D' filtered out as she walked down the aisle._

_x_

The sunlight woke her, a single beam shining directly on her eyes. She lay still for a while, soaking in the warmth as the recent events caught up to her.

Eventually, she breathed deeply, stretched out and rubbed at her eyes, attempting to thread her fingers through her mess of curls.

She turned over and saw Mac's dark hair resting on the back of the couch, obviously asleep from the almost unnatural angle.

She quietly padded to the bathroom, checking her reflection in the mirror - wild hair, red eyes and raw cheeks.

After splashing water on her face and pulling a brush through unruly curls, she crossed to the kitchen and began a fresh pot of coffee. She leant against the counter as the machine percolated, watching the movements of Mac's chest as he slept, the faintest of snores sounding from his open mouth. It had been a long time since a man had slept in her apartment, and the thought brought Graeme crashing back to the forefront of her mind. Thankfully, the coffee machine beeped and broke her from her reverie.

"Hey," she whispered behind him, a cup in hand. "Mac?" she squeezed his shoulder.

He gently stirred as she squeezed again, smirking at the non-descript grunt that sounded as his head straightened, a hand immediately kneading a crick in his neck.

"I made coffee."

"Mmm, perfect," his eyes opened and took the outstretched steaming mug as she rounded the couch and grabbed her coffee from the table, tucking her legs beneath his.

"You okay?" she gave a smile, placing a hand back on his shoulder and helping with the massage.

"Yeah, thank you," he sipped his coffee. "Are you?"

"I'm good. Thank you for staying."

"You're welcome. It was educational…"

A smirk tipped at her lips. "You didn't have to sleep on her couch, y'know. Your neck's probably killing you."

"Nothing a hot shower and more coffee can't fix."

"Well I have both." She gestured to the computer, "Anything pop?"

"A couple on your partials, but nothing much. I'll get the names to Flack later."

She nodded, "I'll pass the trace to Adam."

"You're going in today?"

"Yeah."

"You don't have to, y'know. You can afford to take the day. Or week."

"What would I do? Sit around here and wallow in my past life? No thanks, I can do that just as well at the lab," she smiled weakly, hoping it would instil as much faith in Mac and she was hoping for herself.

He chewed at the inside of his cheek, unconvinced. "If you're sure."

She nodded, patting his knee as she drained her coffee and moved to the bathroom, starting her day.


	3. Chapter 3

Kudos if you find the error in this, even better if you don't ;) x

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><p>She'd forgotten how uncomfortable Church pews could be. She shuffled on the varnished seat and slapped a hand on the pamphlet before it slid off her knee, her fingers covering the picture of Graeme.<p>

She swallowed down a dry throat as she traced the name and dates below his photograph.

_Graeme David Kinsella_

_12/01/1969 - 28/08/2011_

She hadn't seen the photograph before, surmising it had been taken after their time together. Mac slid down next to her, tucking his cell phone back in his pocket. "Flack's got someone in the PD. He and Danny are questioning him now," he said in hushed tones.

"Good," Stella said, clearing her throat so it sounded above a whisper.

It wasn't lost on him - how tight her jaw was set, the redness to her eyes, the pallor of her skin - she was taking the day hard. Understandably. He wrapped his fingers around her hand, squeezing to tell her everything she needed to know without needing to voice a word.

She had just put her other hand over his when the lone piper began playing outside, signifying the beginning of the service. She and Mac stood as the coffin passed them, carried on the shoulders of his brother, friends and cousins, and followed by his family.

She squeezed his hand tightly as a tear tripped her cheek.

Xx

Stella smiled her thanks as Mac handed her a glass of wine. She was stood a ways down the garden of the Kinsella home, facing away from the congregation celebrating Graeme's life.

His older brother had started up the BBQ and it was looking to become a family event like she remembered of twenty years ago.

Her heart wasn't it in, however, as she looked at the small tree still growing in the garden. "We planted this," she began, "Grae and I. For the baby." It was surrounded by little purple and yellow flowers and looked like it was still regularly tended to. She liked that.

"It's…nice."

She looked to him from the corner of her eyes, a smirk tipping at her lips. "Nice?"

He looked sheepishly at her, obviously having been lost for words.

"Stella?" a voice announced behind them. Josie smiled through sad eyes as they both looked over to her, Mac touching Stella's arm as he passed them both and walked over the lawn to where the burgers were beginning to cook.

"Look at you…" Stella smiled.

"The word 'whale' comes to mind," Josie laughed, setting a hand on her large belly. Her dark hair was scraped back in a ponytail, her bump straining through the white shirt and dark trousers.

"You look well with it though."

"Only a month to go until my due date. I'm _so _ready for this experience to be over."

"Been rough?"

"Constant cravings for Guacamole flavour chips and I didn't realise till now that the 'morning' of morning sickness is a big freakin' lie. _All_ day, _every_ day."

"Ugh, I remember that," Stella said, a faint smile on her lips as she looked back over her shoulder to the tree.

"Mom planted the flowers around it," Josie said, stepping to her side. "There was a whole big deal one winter when we thought it'd died."

"Nineteen years…"

"Grae never got over you, y'know." Stella looked to her, Josie's hand gliding over her bump. "Neither did my Mom."

"Your Mom?" She asked, guiding her to the bench against the garden wall.

"Yeah, she always thought of you as a daughter. Even after…everything." She maneuvered herself to sit down, discomfort etched on her pretty face. "She kept all the newspapers that you ended up in, she couldn't bear to toss them out."

"Wow."

Josie placed a hand on Stella's arm, "You were never far from the family, especially when Grae…when Grae came back to us."

"How did he die, Josie?"

She took a deep breath, her hand resting on top of her bump, her fingers splayed across it. "He got recruited to undercover work, to infiltrate some big international drug ring. They authorised him to use drugs so he could 'blend' in," her jaw twitched with anger. "About four years later, he had become pretty close with the head guy and they were in some dope den someplace. An argument ensued over some _woman_ and Graeme got stabbed with the needle the other guy was using. He gave him HIV."

It felt like all the air had left Stella's body.

"Graeme - _being Graeme _- pleaded to stay in the program, to stick with the case and really get the guy good. He said he 'didn't want to die over nothing'," she scoffed. "Two years later, they had all the evidence they needed and Graeme could come out and come home."

"He came home on the Tuesday, but… but he died on the Saturday. He held on for as long as he needed. Told us everything, apologised to Mom and Dad for being away so long, berated Jay for letting a guy get so close that I got married and got pregnant," she smiled, stroking over her bump. She rooted into her pocket, "and held on long enough to tell me to make this." She held out a CD case.

"What is it?"

"He told me not to tell you, to just make it and get it to you and tell you to stop asking questions."

"Ass," she laughed.

Josie grinned, "Til the end! So, I know all about your professional life post-Kinsella tribe, what about your personal life?"

"Oh, we don't have time for all that," she smiled, a blush raising on her cheeks.

"Him?" Josie pointed to where Mac was speaking with James over the BBQ.

"Good friend. And colleague, he's probably in all those photos with me in the papers."

"I thought he looked familiar…"

"Listen, thank you." Stella said, her voice weak as she gripped the CD case. "For finding me."

"Like I said, Mom kept tabs on you."

"Yeah, but twenty years later, you didn't have to."

"Hey hon?" a man's voice asked, stepping towards the bench. "Johnny and Ana are leaving, they wanted to say goodbye."

"Stella, this is my husband, Matthew Finn," Josie gestured to the tall, blonde gentleman in the dark suit before them. "Matthew, Stella."

"Nice to meet you," she smiled, standing up and shaking his hand.

"You too," he said, helping Josie as she struggled to come to her feet. "Heard a lot about you."

"Told you," Josie said in a strained voice as her back protested the effort. "Stay in touch, okay?"

"I will. Good luck with everything."

She was leaning against the Juliet balcony in her apartment when he handed her a mug. A frosted breeze whipped her caramel curls around her face as she thanked him, wrapping her fingers around the hot cocoa, appreciating the warmth as the rain fell heavily.

He mirrored her stance, his eyes lingering on her face a beat longer after she'd returned her gaze to the city skyline. She looked tired, pale, spent.

She brought the mug to her lips and took a sip, "Has this-?"

"S'Irish," he smiled.

"Good call," she smirked, taking another sip before breathing a deep sigh. "I can't get it out of my head."

He kept his eyes on the rhythmic pulsing of red lights from the skyscraper rooftops and the rippling puddles of rain shining in their beams.

"Grae just lay there in a hospital bed in God-knows-where. Dying. Thin, emaciated, struggling for breath from the disease, unable to eat, swallow and still, through all that, maintaining his cover. It just- I mean, I'm not surprised. He was one stubborn bastard when he wanted to be. I have no doubt they tried to pull him but he probably fought to stay. They'd killed him, why not let them watch him die and complete the mission?" she scoffed, shaking her head.

"When I-When I thought I had it, had HIV, I had people around me. I had you, I had Sid, even Adam knew. I had people I could lean on and I honestly don't think I could have gotten through it without you Mac, but Grae… he didn't have his family, he didn't have anyone. He wasn't even dying as Graeme David Kinsella, it was whatever his alias was. It's just not fair," her voice had devolved to a whisper as the emotion overwhelmed her, tears spilling from her green eyes and tripping from her chin. "It's not fair," she repeated as Mac enveloped her in his arms, his hand stroking over her back.

Her face turned into his neck before pulling away, an apologetic smile on her face. "That's getting to be a habit…"

His hand still rested on her back as she wiped at her eyes, pulling the mug to her lips and inhaling the sweet, _loaded,_ smell. "Just how Irish is this?"

His eyes sparkled in reply. He crossed to the couch and pulled the CD Josie had given her from her coat pocket. Turning back to Stella, he gestured to the transparent case and the shining disc within. He watched her take a breath and nod lightly.

They were both leaning against the balcony railings, mugs in hand, when the first song began playing from the small 's 'Only You'.

A smile tipped at the edges of her lips. "This was our first dance," her eyes began to sparkle again.

Mac placed his mug on the table, taking hers from her grasp and placing it next to its twin.

He took her hand in his and guided her to the small clearing behind the couch.

She wound her arms behind his back as his fell to her waist, they gently began to sway, Stella lowering her face to his shoulder. She breathed deeply, Mac's cologne not what she remembered from her memories of this song.

Mac's hand slid to the small of her back, holding her tighter.

He had to apologise towards the end of the song, his cumbersome feet catching hers. "Sorry, been a while."

She pulled back, a smirk on her lips as the song faded out and into another. "Oh my God," she laughed.

"What in the hell?" his head swung to look at the hi-fi, as heavy guitar and drum riffs filled the small room, taking a beat or four for it to register to Mac as a melody.

She was grinning, her eyes sparkling for a different reason for the first time in days. "Tell me you know Def Leppard! 'Pour Some Sugar On Me'?"

"Who?"

Forget grinning, she was just laughing now, grabbing his hands and forcing him to move. "It's got a beat, I suppose." His feet shuffled as his fingers plucked at the bass chords he was hearing. He spun her, her giggle infectious as the song broke into its chorus. "Never had you for a metal head."

"This was one of Grae's."

"How did you dance to this?"

"We didn't," she said, a smirk on her lips turning to coquettish pout as he spun her again.

She laughed at his sudden wide eyes and the blush rising up his neck to his cheeks. He swallowed down a dry throat as she turned on her heel, sashaying to the hi-fi to flick the song ahead. He had enough visuals in his head without trying to fit in the tempo of the song, she decided.

"Do I wanna know what's coming next?"

"How many times have you asked that since knowing me?" she laughed, looking over her shoulder as she pressed the button.

"Once or twice," he said. "A day."

She threw her head back in a deep laugh, the sound like music to his ears after her last few tear-stained days.

The next song began playing, softer guitar riffs filling the small room. A moment of panic filled him at what confessions she may have attached to this one.

She turned around, a smile on her face as she leant back against the unit. "November Rain."

"Guns and Roses?"

"Well done," she smiled.

"Do I wanna know?"

"Graduation. Last dance."

He relaxed a slight and opened his arms, his eyes inviting her to dance again. She stepped forward into his embrace. She splayed her fingers across his cheek as she leant up, placing a kiss against his stubble. "Thank you."

"For what?" he asked, a small smile playing at his lips.

"For, once again, being here for me. I have no one else like you in my life and I don't think anyone who could ever come close."

"You're welcome," he smiled, his fingers tightening around her waist.

"It's becoming a common thing in my life, though. Me with some big catastrophic life event, you with your shoulder to cry on and heavy alcohol-to-cocoa ratio hot drinks…" She smirked, before turning serious. "I can never thank you enough, Mac."

"There's nothing to pay back, my own life hasn't exactly always been plain sailing. You've been there for me just as many times."

"Yeah, well, it feels more one-sided," she kissed his cheek again, hovering over the corner of his lips. She could feel his fingers on her hips, his body pressed against hers as she held him close, his breath hot and sweet against her skin.

She closed her eyes and leapt, inching her lips over to his and kissing him with a feather light caress.

His lips twitched against her, returning the movement with just as much trepidation and restraint as she showed.

She'd lost herself to the feeling of another body against hers, to the warmth and closeness that a relationship offered, to allow herself to completely let go and know there was no chance of hurt or harm or maybe even homicide. To allow herself something she'd denied herself for so long.

She moved against him, crushing herself to him as their lips touched again. It wasn't until he whispered her name that she broke from her reverie.

Her eyes snapped open, seeing his green eyes staring back at her, a soft look with just surprise, no judgement or horror.

"Stella?"

"Shit. Shit, shit," she pulled herself away, spinning on her heels and switching the stereo off. "I'm sorry, I-"

"-Stella. It's been an emotional few days for you."

"That's no excuse."

"Hey," he stepped forwards, his hands on her arms. "It's not often I'm offended when a beautiful woman kisses me. I'm certainly not offended now."

Her head ducked as she smiled, the blush rising on her cheeks hidden by the fallen curls.

"Why don't you go to bed? Sleep the day away."

She nodded, tucking her hair behind her ear as she looked back at him. "You sticking around?"

His eyes flicked to the couch, remembering the pain in his neck the morning after last time.

"Not on the couch. Regardless of my little outburst then, you'd be safe to sleep in my bed with me." She gave a self-deprecating smirk, disguising the vulnerability he picked up on.

He laughed, "Sure."

Xx

They had been asleep nearly three hours when her phone started to ring. Being in the job they were, Stella was somewhat used to nocturnal phone calls and requests for presence, but that certainly didn't mean she had to like them.

She gave a frustrated grunt as her surroundings set in and the incessant din hadn't gone.

Her hand crashed onto the bedside, feeling blindly for her cell. She eventually realised she was on the other side of her bed and leant across, mumbling an apology to Mac.

"Bonasera."

"_Stella?__"_

"Yep," she said, rubbing her eyes.

"_It__'__s Corinne. Kinsella.__"_

"Hi," her eyes opened wide, suddenly awake. "Hi, is everything okay?"

"_It__'__s-It__'__s__…"_she went quiet. _"__I can__'__t do it. You talk to her.__"_

There was a shuffling on the line before a deep voice spoke. "_Stella? Hi, it__'__s James.__"_

"James, what's going on?"

"_It__'__s Josie. She never made it home after the funeral.__"_

"How do you know?"

"_She calls us every night, especially now she__'__s so far along. So when she didn__'__t call or pick up, we drove out to her place and she wasn__'__t there.__"_

"James-"

"_Something__'__s wrong, Stella. I know it. If it__'__s not about the baby, what if it__'__s about Graeme? His work?__"_

"Okay, listen. I'm sure she's fine but I'll make a few calls. I'll be there in twenty minutes."

"_Thank you, Stella.__"_

"Of course." She hung up and raked a hand through her hair, the phone dropping to the bed.

"What is it?" Mac asked, sitting up and resting a hand on her shoulder.

"Josie didn't make it home."

"You thinking the drug ring?"

"I'm hoping she's in some all night bar sipping back virgin mojitos but…" her hand gestured over her body, her gut was telling her something else.

"Let's go."


	4. Chapter 4

Apologies for delay!  
>Many thanks for reading. Epilogue to go! x<p>

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><p>Mac drove to the Kinsella home, a route he had taken just a few hours previously. She'd already called one hospital by the time they'd made it to the car, and dialled the other local hospitals en route. None had a record of a Josie or Josephine Kinsella nor Finn. Matthew neither.<p>

_God, _how she hoped they were just in a bar somewhere.

Corinne was already at the door before they'd make it through the gate. Her mouth was in a tight line and fearful and not belying the 4am hour.

"Hi, Corinne."

"Thank you for coming, Stella," she guided them into the front room.

"Have you heard anything?"

"Nothing," James said, standing by the fire place, the picture of Josie out of place on the mantle, obviously picked up and put back many times.

"James," she nodded hello, "Jay," she said, finding him sat on a chair, his elbows digging into his knees, his fingers in a point. "This is Mac Taylor. Friend and colleague, he came with me today."

Mac nodded from behind her, staying to the shadows. James came forward and shook Mac's hand, having spoken that afternoon. "Thank you for coming Mac."

"Of course."

"Corinne," Stella turned to the matriarch, who was tucking herself protectively against her husband. "When did you last speak to Josie?" Mac brought out a notepad from his pocket.

"She left here at eleven. She was going to call me when they got home but she never did."

"No one spoke to her after she left?"

"I sent her a text," Jay announced. "She left without saying goodbye to me, so I text her a jibe. She text back to tell me to shut up and that she loved me." He stood up, his fists in tight balls. Stella swallowed, watching him cross to the window.

"I'm going to need her cell phone number, address and car details."

Corinne crossed to the bureau, scribbling the information on a piece of paper and passing it to Mac.

"I'll call Flack," he told Stella, disappearing out the door.

"Mac and I are going to follow her route-"

"We already did that!" Jay barked.

Stella swallowed her reply, James turning to stare at his son.

"Stay by your phones. We'll be in touch." Stella joined Mac outside, James closing the door behind her as Corinne joined Jay at the window.

"Anything?" she asked, pulling her lapels tighter around her chest.

"Flack's making some calls, he'll be at the office in twenty," he dropped his phone into his pocket.

"I owe him," she nodded, falling into step as they walked towards the car.

Mac flashed her a look to say she didn't and that she knew it.

"Where does Josie live?"

Mac handed her the note as he typed the address into his SatNav. "This is the most likely route," he tapped the screen.

"Let's go."

The route was through suburban New York, rows of houses leading onto others as the tinny robotic voice guided them to Josie's home. Nothing was sticking out, nothing seemingly out of the ordinary and no sight of a dark purple Escalade, registered to Matthew Finn.

Before long, they'd pulled up to Josie's darkened house. Two storey building, double garage, canopy over the door. A beautiful picture postcard home that currently showed no signs of life.

Mac and Stella trudged up the stone pathway, the gravel noisy under foot. They tried the door, knocked hard, listened for any kind of sound before looking through the windows. Mac shone a flashlight through the to the rooms, scanning for anything of note.

"They never made it back," Stella stated.

"Looks that way."

"Flack called?"

"Not yet. He will."

They walked back to the car, climbing inside and turning the heat on.

"Can you think of anywhere they might have gone first? A friends house nearby, maybe?"

"It's been nineteen years, Mac. I don't know her anymore."

"What about today? What did she say to you?"

"We spoke about Graeme, about the case," she swallowed.

"What else? When I left you, what did you say?"

"She was saying about her pregnancy, ready for it to be over because of the morning sickness and…"

"And what?"

"Where's the nearest store? We didn't pass any, right?"

"Stores? Er, there's a 7-11 a few blocks over, on a different route. Why?"

"Cravings. Guacamole chips. I bet they took a detour to get some."

He put the car into gear and sped off towards the new SatNav direction.

They pulled into the parking lot, the store long closed and darkened. They piled out of the car and repeated their checks. No signs of life again, no sign Josie had been there.

"Goddamnit."

"I'll call Flack, see if he can locate the manager and get CCTV."

Stella leant against the warm bonnet of their car as the rain started to fall again , scanning the area with the flashlight. Anything could have happened there. The roads leading to and away were practically deserted, a few homes dotted on the roadside, also long darkened in the early hour. It was the perfect place. To what, though? Kidnap? Kill?

Surely they'd have had a ransom by now, if that was the idea.

Surely there'd be evidence of some kind of killing, instead there was just silence and stillness.

"Car," Mac announced, gesturing to the arriving headlights. They both stilled behind the SUV, their hands automatically flying to the holsters on their hips, just in case.

They followed the car intently as it passed, probably looking more suspicious to whomever was in the light blue Ford than the car did to Mac and Stella.

"Did you see that?" Mac asked, his face set and staring at the exit.

"See what?"

He took the flashlight from her hands and shone it around the parking lot. Sure enough, when the beacon of light shone around the exit a small smattering of glitter illuminated.

"How in the hell did you see that?" She asked, but he was already half way across the lot.

"Broken glass," he said as she caught up. He turned a piece over with a pen from his pocket. "Taillight."

"Mac," she warned, taking the flashlight and shining it onto the road. "Skids."

"Someone took off in a hurry."

"And someone hurried after them," she shone the light along the two sets of tracks.

"Come on," she said, jogging back to the car.

They followed down the street, each twist and turn making her stomach feel heavier that she'd set them on a wild goose chase, that maybe those tracks weren't even relevant to Josie and Matthew, that they were driving further away from whichever bar she still hoped to find them.

"Stella," Mac said, his eyes focussed on the clearing of trees up ahead that glittered with broken glass and shone with a fiery burning inferno.

"Oh my God…" she muttered, her hands feeling blindly for her phone in the middle console, calling dispatch.

Mac had barely pulled the car to a stop when they both jumped out and scrambled for the edge of the embankment. From what they could tell from the waving heat stinging at their eyes and the burst of orange, yellow and red, it looked like two cars had been burning for quite some time. One a hatchback, the other a bigger vehicle.

"Josie!" Stella shouted, running and sliding down the sodden mud.

"Stella!" Mac called, chasing after her as she got as close as she could, the sound of hissing and creaking metal as the fire licked everywhere it could touch.

She stepped even closer to the bigger car, Mac catching up and wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her away. "Careful!"

"Josie! She's in there!"

Mac scanned the wreckages as Stella squirmed beneath his embrace. The smell of burning flesh unmistakable and mixing with the melting rubber stinging at his nostrils as the fear and adrenaline truly set in. Someone was dead, maybe even multiple people, maybe even Josie and Matthew.

"Stella, we gotta get back, the fire trucks are on their way."

"No!" She fought free and ran further towards the vehicles. The wall of heat was almost unbearable, the fire touching at the low hanging trees and threatening even more violence. "Josie!" she shouted again, barely audible over the sound of the fire.

A breeze whipped the flames back and away from the front of the car, allowing a split second to peer into the front seats.

Empty.

"She's not in there, Mac!" she shouted. Not only were they empty but she could see only now that the passenger side door was wide open.

Mac saw it too, running past her as they scanned the trees and brush.

"Stella!" he called, pointing to a large tree trunk in the distance.

She followed his eyeline to where Matthew was sat, unconscious against the tree, Josie leaning against his front. Her face was dirtied and her eyes closed as she lolled against her husband's body.

Stella ran through the clearing towards them as Mac ran back up the embankment to where the sirens were finally beginning to wail louder over the screaming flames and screeching metal.

"Josie? Josie, can you hear me?" she fell to her knees, fingers flying to their necks to check for pulses. Faint, but there. She laid her hands on Josie's bump, not quite sure what to check for and not certain that she didn't see blood amongst the mud on her soaking clothes. "Mac! Get the EMTs!" she hollered, doubting she could be heard, no matter how much her throat stung at the effort. She erupted into a coughing fit, holding her face into her shoulder against the smoke and stench.

"Stella!" Mac called as he ran down the embankment, his heels flanked by a cavalcade of paramedics and firemen.

"Quick, please!"

Mac dragged her away, encasing her in his arms so she didn't run back to Josie. "Come on, Stel. Come on!" he pulled her back to the edge of the embankment and up to the waiting ambulances.

She was stood in the corridor, arms crossed over her chest as she looked through the window. A smile played across her lips at the occasional flail of a tiny newborn arm as she watched the patients of the pediatrics maternity unit.

Mac smiled at the sight, a heavy heart at what she had missed out on herself nineteen years earlier. He stepped to her side as a cacophony of high pitched squeals sounded from the room. He slid a hand over her back. "Hey, they said you were up here."

"Hey," she smiled, splaying her hand on his chest as she leant into him.

"You okay?" he gestured to the small white bandage covering her forearm

"Yeah, fine, just a little burn."

"Otherwise?"

"Exhausted," she laughed, stealing a glance at him before looking back at the babies. "Josie crashed in the ambulance but they brought her 'round. We'd barely pulled into the A&E when they were shouting for a delivery room and that the baby was in distress. Then, _boom, _not ten minutes later she was here."

"She?"

Stella pointed to a little bundle of pink in a far crib. "She."

"Wow."

Stella beamed.

"Josie okay?"

"Broken collar, cheek and a coupla ribs and smoke inhalation. And an emergency caesarean. Other than that, just cuts and bruises. It's a miracle."

"Matthew?"

"Ribs, dislocated shoulder, smoke inhalation, he'll be fine. They all will, eventually."

"Where's Corinne and James?"

"Speaking with the doctors and Matthew's family." She turned to him, her hand on his arm. "And thank you. Again."

"You gonna kiss me again?"

She laughed "No," and looked back over to Baby Girl Finn.

Mac frowned slightly, his hand sliding over the small of her back as she other went to her cheek, turning her head to him.

Before she could question or protest, he lightly touched his lips to her, the same trepidation in his kiss as in hers just the night before.

"Mac…" she whispered, pulling away slightly. She looked down, but his fingers moved to her chin and made her look in his eyes. Dark green eyes, deathly serious and making a flutter rise in her stomach.

She turned fully to him, closing the distance between their lips again. Less trepidation, more exploration, more promise.

Her hand travelled to his chest, comforting and reaffirming solidity beneath her touch.

She touched her lips when she pulled away next, a smirk across her reddened mouth. "Is that how we thank each other now? 'Cause I'm a very grateful person…"

He laughed, a word formed on his lips but interrupted by Flack slipping through the double doors. "-Yeah, I found 'em. Talk to you in a bit."

They pulled their hands from each other and turned to him as he put his phone in his pocket.

"Sight for sore eyes, Stel," he smiled, a shadow of stubble across his cheeks and chin.

She pulled him into a hug, "Thank you for everything."

"Anything for you, you know that," he told her as he shook Mac's hand. He looked into the nursing room. "Okay, you know babies make me nervous…"

Stella smiled, "Focus on telling me what you know."

"Sid's working on the bodies from the car - when he isn't calling me to see how you are. Got IDs: Vinny Postiano and Micky Dyer, lackies from the now-defunct drugs empire that Graeme Kinsella helped bury. We suspect that in trying to avenge nearly everyone getting collared and to affirm their new place in the rankings, they followed Josie and Matthew from the wake and struck at the 7-11. Danny reckons in trying to bump Josie's car off the road, they actually became attached somehow and both careened down the embankment."

Stella wrapped her arms around herself. "Matthew's got a dislocated shoulder - amongst everything else. I think he came-too first and dragged Josie out of the car in time."

"Lucky doesn't cover it," Flack said, turning to the babies and flashing a smile.

Mac and Stella shared a questioning look at just how nervous he was around babies…

"So when do we get the Jackanory about your little trip down the aisle?"

"Jackanory?" Stella asked, confused.

"Don, you gotta stop watching BBC America," Mac smirked, shaking his head at the younger man's full wattage smile.

"Any other deep dark secrets you wanna tell me about now? So I can get a head start?"

"All in good time," she smirked, patting Flack's chest as she passed him to the door.

Flack had a poorly disguised smirk as he watched her leave, before turning back to Mac. "That worries me. She worries me."

Mac smiled, slapping his back as she followed Stella's route, falling into step with her further down the hall. He placed his hand at the small of her back as they meandered down the hallways, Stella flashing a bashful smile.


	5. Chapter 5

Thank you so so much to everyone who has read and moreso to those who have reviewed this story. I have immensely enjoyed writing it and trying out some scenes I've rarely/never written before. Also, thank you to those who reviewed most recently and reminded me to post this epilogue! Computer issues, coupled with employment issues and God-knows-what-else-issues meant it was delayed just a slight. Apologies!

Hope you enjoy. Thanks! x

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><p>"Mac!" Stella called, trotting up the last few steps into the lab floor.<p>

"How was court?" he asked, turning on his heel and falling into step with her.

"All twenty six sentenced to between sixteen and life. The guy that stabbed Graeme is getting the needle."

"Good."

"Press was crazy outside the courtroom. Think some followed me back, might need to warn everyone."

Mac nodded as they turned into her office, opening the door for her. "How are you?"

"I'm very good now," she smiled lightly, hanging her suit jacket on the hook and rubbing his arm as she passed to the desk. "Did I miss anything?" she picked up a pile of messages and flicked through them sitting on the corner.

"Flack's brought someone in on the Melendez case, and Adam-"

Mac was interrupted by the man himself, swinging through the door.

"- has groundbreaking information."

"Come in, Adam…" Stella smirked.

"Oh, right, sorry," he looked back at the door and flicked between Mac and Stella, bouncing on his toes like an excited puppy. "But this really is groundbreaking. Like, Nobel winning. Like looking at moldy bread and thinking 'Oh, hey, bet if I eat that it'd stop my stomach ache'-"

"Adam!"

"Right, sorry. Look," he passed a manilla file to Mac.

Adam dug his hands in his pockets, still bouncing on his toes as his eyes flickered over Stella's desk. "Who's the kid?"

Stella followed his gaze to the framed photograph. "Goddaughter."

Mac flicked up a page of results, his eyes going wide before passing the folder to Stella.

"What is it?" she asked, taking the file and flipping it open, scanning the results. "But…that's indigenous to South America."

"Specifically Bogotá," Adam announced with a pointed finger.

"And who do we know who recently took a trip to Columbia…?"

"Oh, only the guy Flack's questioning right now down in PD…"

She shut the file and passed it back to Adam, saying "Run."

"On it!" he shouted, already out the door.

They watched as he spun around a lab tech in the hall but came up against another and mirrored each other's steps. Eventually, Adam faked right and ran left, spinning around him in a move he must have learned from Sunday night football before running down the hall.

Mac and Stella laughed as she crossed her arms over her chest, the pink paper messages rustling in her hand.

"Good job."

She smirked, "_Thank you_."

To anyone else, it was a friendly compliment on a case broken and justice served, but the shared smile when he left and passed by her window belied a lot more.

Her smile faded as she crossed to behind her desk, flipping open the folder to an as-yet unsolved case and hoped for a transference of luck. Her eyes, however, travelled up to the silver picture frame showcasing an eight week old little girl, fresh from a bath in a robe with little ears on the hood and warm, pink cheeks. Grace Alexis Finn.

Graeme Kinsella had brought her a new Goddaughter into her life and though he would always be her first love, thanks to him, he wouldn't be her last.


End file.
